


After the Match

by Nelll



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Luka Modrić Needs a Hug, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-12
Updated: 2018-09-12
Packaged: 2019-07-11 11:06:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15971063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nelll/pseuds/Nelll
Summary: The Croatia national team lost 6:0 to Spain. Sergio Ramos comforts his friend.





	After the Match

**Author's Note:**

> You can read it in either slash or friendship goggles.

Sergio Ramos didn’t feel exhausted―just pleasantly tired, like after a good workout. It was an easy match. Way too easy for his liking. 

Around him, the players of his national team were clapping the subdued Croats on the backs, exchanging jerseys with them, trying to get them to talk. The pitch was swarming with people, flashes of cameras and smartphones almost blinding Sergio. He looked around in search of Modrić and finally located him further off. Luka stood alone, shirtless, holding Sergio’s red jersey like he didn’t know what to do with it. He looked shell-shocked. 

Sergio crossed the distance between them in a few resolute steps and put a cautious hand on Luka’s shoulder. “C’mon, Lukita, don’t do it to yourself. It’s not your fault, shit happens,” he said in Spanish and patted Luka’s sweaty hair. “For what it’s worth, you did good. You always do.”

Luka shook his head almost imperceptibly. Sergio sighed and pressed his cheek to his friend’s hot temple. “You’ll play better next time.” He drew back and tried to meet Luka’s eye. “I don’t care what anybody says, you’re still worthy of every damn award they gave you. Do you hear me?” Sergio grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him a little. “Look at me. Luka? Lukita!” 

“My team,” Luka said in a strangely pitched voice. Right. Of course. The stupid Croat was not thinking of himself, but of his defeated, disemboweled, miserable team. Ignoring the fact that they were both shirtless, Sergio hugged him close and buried his nose in Luka’s hair. “ _You’re_ my team. You’ll always be my team no matter where we play.” He felt Luka’s head bow, his forehead touch his sweaty skin. “Thanks,” Luka whispered.

Sergio wouldn’t think any less of him if he cried, but he was just breathing into Sergio’s shoulder. Like he was gathering strength, preparing to face the world again. 

Sergio felt a surge of tenderness for his stubborn friend. “It’s okay,” he murmured into Luka’s hair. “It’s going to be okay. You’ll see. You’ll get over it. I got you.” And he felt a huge load fall off his back when Luka slightly nodded against him.


End file.
